Take it Off
by ShiningSoul24
Summary: Maka has an issue with Soul not wearing clothes around the apartment. Soul doesn't seem to care. So Maka returns the favor. Mostly SoMaka fluff and stuff, and quite a bit of stripping. SoulXMaka
1. The Feud

The feud

"Sometimes it's okay to take a step back and admit you're being ridiculous."

Simply put, Maka was fed up. She had tolerated Soul's irksome mannerisms for years: squeezing the toothpaste tube any which way instead of from the bottom to top, putting laundry in the hamper _right_ after she had loaded the machine, and drinking milk from the gallon, and at times by the gallon. And he then had the audacity to wonder why she became such a nag after spending hours reversing his clothes or finally washing the enormous pile of dishes, that by some magical anomaly, was replenished by the next morning.

Knowing well that her at times irritable habits must annoy Soul too, she feigned contentment with their living arrangement and turned a partially blind eye to his often squalid lifestyle she refused to embrace. Now, she wished she could literally turn a blind eye.

With spring fading and summer roaring in uncharacteristically hot, in which fire hydrants and streetlamps seemed to bend and swoon in the sweltering heat, the absence of central air was greatly felt in their stuffy apartment, especially to Soul. Knowing their unruly landlord, any stipulation to their agreement would be futile, so it seemed this summer would just have to be endured, much to soul's apparent dismay. So he became creative in his attempts to cool down, following the next logical course of action right after placing the contents of the freezer in front of fans to 'move the coldness from the ice to the air!' as he had so wonderfully put it. After a disappointing and not to shocking experimental failure, he scrapped the innovations and fell back the fool proof, age old method: stripping down to the bare necessities. In his case that meant nothing but boxers, plain, polka dotted, and yes, even neon. In a span of two weeks Maka had seen more of him than she ever anticipated, or really wanted, especially when the only thing covering him was a piece of bright yellow fabric, that practically screamed at her to stare where any respecting person shouldn't.

But it really didn't bother Maka at first. She was used to him walking about with little on and it had never much bothered her nor made anything awkward between them, but that was back when it wasn't a daily occurrence, and when it was still summer. Now she found herself looking at her half naked scythe more than the clothed one for no logical reason, being that it was the dead of winter. Though it didn't necessarily bother her, she found she did become increasingly distracted by it. She would find herself suddenly very aware of his presence anywhere which made studying a lot harder. It was like trying to watch a documentary about the history of the leaf blower with a new episode of her favorite juicy crime drama blaring in the other room. It was damn near impossible to focus.

Worse still, others were starting to notice Soul's lack of decency around her, attributing it to some sort of intimacy between them, which so infuriated Maka she could hardly raise her eyes to meet those of her accusers, not in embarrassment of Soul, but out a blow to her dwindling pride not being able to control the idiot.

One major contributor to her eventual outburst occurred the other day. While talking to her psychotic father through her mirror, which she much preferred to talking to him in person, Soul barged into her room holding in his hand lacey lingerie that unmistakably belonged to a certain good-for-nothing cat who happened to come around more than welcome for a rent free night. But being the dramatist he was, Spirit interpreted Soul barging into Maka's room unannounced, practically naked and with frilly undergarments to mean more than it did, bringing out the interred father in him. Being the loon he was, he assumed like everyone else that Soul and Maka were more than just roommates. He even went out of his way to give her the dreaded talk, in which he unintelligently sputtered out what knew of the topic with gestures that Maka would pay to unsee. And so Maka was forced to deal with his stupidity by tuning him out. Having been familiarized with the topic after many one sided conversations with Blair, she instead imagined how nice it would be to swing down her wavelength theory book on Soul's skull when it was all over.

After many similarly embarrassing instances, she finally drew the line with him coming to the dinner table in only boxers for the third day in a row. Here she was forced to look at him and she couldn't stand the constant blush that would color her cheeks as they ate, a blush that he either didn't notice or quietly reveled in, though she suspecting the latter. And as she watched him ravenously shovel forkfuls of food into his mouth, Maka finally decided she had had enough. She slammed a fist on the table, causing her knife to clatter in the floor and for Soul to divert attention from his meal to her for a second, the gleam in his red eyes daring her to say something.

"Could you please put some goddamn clothes on," Maka seethed through her teeth, the culmination of anger from these last few days pouring out, surprising both Soul and her to a degree. But, as always, he matched her exclamations of rage with sly coolness, aggravating her more.

"What, am I distracting you or something?" he asked nonchalantly, going back to shoving mashed potatoes into his mouth like his life depended on it. Maka dragged her nails across the wooden table against the grain, so not to scream, and attempting to replicate his demeanor, but to no avail.

"It's indecent," she said coldly, but he only looked at her in half interest, "you're ruining the atmosphere." He swallowed a mouthful before calmly replying,

"I'm doing a service to the atmosphere," which ignited even more resentment. He then leaned back on his chair mockingly, arms behind his head and chest forward to accent his muscled chest to prove his point. Maka half reluctantly turned away, picking up her remaining pieces of dignity before they rolled away under the fridge. He was doing this on purpose and she knew it, and he knew that she knew which encouraged him even more. He was like a child; once he figured out how to get away with something he'd never stop, especially when the only reprimand she could offer as a slap on the wrist. She knew well this was his revenge for years of her nagging and dictatorial rule of the household, and it was working.

His calm demeanor always ended up infuriating her more, making her wish he would raise his voice and yell in a sputter of words as she would. There was no way for her to beat him at his own game; he was just too damn good. But as she watched his smug, unassuming grin split his face, the spark of an idea ignited.

A startlingly curious plan formulated while she watched his bare back as he placed his plate on the precariously tall pile of dishes, his back muscles moving , as reached to the top, in a way that made her want to blush. With every step of his, it became clearer, until she was forced to suppress a smile as he leaned against the sink with his arms folded and a mocking grin plastered on his face. She gave one last look to his bare chest, the jagged scar, and the sly grin of his before taking up her plate and moving to the living room, not wanting to risk even a shadow of her plan to come through her.

And they both smiled in their separate rooms, thinking the other had lost this battle.

 **Hey! So I'm taking up writing again (let's see how long this lasts)! I'm trying out a new style, so please review and let me know what you think so far and about the idea behind it! As always, thanks for reading!**


	2. Sweet and Sour

Sweet and Sour

"I don't like to call it revenge… returning the favor sounds nicer." - Unknown

Maka felt so giddy about her plotting that she had to keep herself from rubbing her hands together maniacally, as if she was some kind of evil genius. But evil genius or not, she decided to forgo any extensive planning because it was pretty simple what she was going to do. Two can play at these games, and it was more a matter of who could break the other first. This was a game of wit and endurance which she was positive she could outlast.

Because Soul failed foundations of amplification last year, he was forced to stay in school an extra 40 minutes with Blackstar, Patty, and all the others who took advantage of the professor's apathy in engaging the class, to instead take power naps or sling milk cartons across the lecture hall. Maka would usually wait in the library for Soul with Tsubaki, who waited on Blackstar, or sometimes even join the remedial class if boredom caught up with her too quickly.

These 40 minutes was a perfect amount of time for her to open all the windows in the apartment, letting in the sharp winter chill that would quickly chase out the artificially warmed air. Not only would it discourage him from his semi-naked escapades, as she though he must have viewed them, but would force him to bundle up the more to keep the chill out. It wasn't a genius plan by any means, but it got the job done- to a degree. Soul was forced to put on a shirt when he walked around, but he never brought up a complaint as if their silent feud didn't exist. Maka was hoping for some kind of reaction, at least a frown or sigh of annoyance, but they went on civilly as if nothing had happened over the past few months. And this brief reprieve, boring as it was, became a blessing in the sense that she could finally sit and +focus on school work, without having to worry about her naked death scythe prancing about the room and distracting her.

Until the snow melted and the cold weather was kicked north by a milder spring front, their daily lives went on in this way, until Maka nearly forgot about their fight and stopped opening windows to let in chilled air that left a while ago. But as February rounded the corner, Soul embraced the weather with a sly grin and a lack of garments, waltzing around in such an irritating fashion that Maka had to walk out of rooms so not to strangle him with her bare hands.

With renewed vigor, he put on such a the pretentious arrogant front that he seemed to be making up for the months when he couldn't, but being as hotheaded as she was, Maka couldn't put on the cool countenance he managed. He seemed to go out of his way to lean over her work and ask about dinner, or constantly forget something while in the shower so he could walk around in just a short towel. He knew the effect it had on her, and seemed to have trouble suppressing his delight when Maka turned away blushing, or stared for just a second too long, where he would raise his eyebrow in mock-judgment. He relished her embarrassment, and she drowned in it, having trouble looking him in the eye in public for all she could see were the images of him without his usual yellow jacket. He drove her crazy, and not in the good way.

For weeks she had been trying to wear a face of indifference in attempt to discourage the idiot, but it seemed only to have the adverse affect, inspiring his idiotic attitude the more. And so Maka threw her morals in the wastebasket, alongside her long lost dignity, and finally sunk to his level, which happened to be the floor where his clothes lay, forgotten.

On one particularly bad day, in which Soul came out of the shower dripping wet in just a towel, under the pretense of forgetting his shampoo in, of all places, the kitchen, Maka had finally snapped. With the picture of his bare chest wet with water dripping from strands of hair, and the knot of the towel tied so loosely that it sat low on his hips leaving little and inciting much to the imagination, she was sure he was now just trying to get a riot out of her, and this time she refused to cave. And with an image that just wouldn't leave her mind to inspire her, she decided that two could play this way, and play she would.

Lying prostrate on the couch, with clothes bunched in a heap by the TV stand, Soul absentmindedly flipped through the channels, not really watching but just passing boredom, as any lazy Saturday warranted.

Imitating his own confidence and tapping into her reserves, Maka walked across the hardwood wordlessly, hardly receiving a look from Soul, but knowing well he was watching from the corner of his eye as he always did in case he precipitated a reaction from her. Using this knowledge, she stood inconspicuously on the other end of the couch, as if she was mildly concerned with his channel flipping. Stretching in mock tiredness, she then unassumingly pulled her shirt over her head, revealing a carefully chosen bra for just a second or two, before she pulled on the old tee she normally wore to sleep. To an outsider Maka's little show would seem to have gone unnoticed by Soul whose eyes were glued to the screen, but Maka knew better. What gave him away was the sudden cease of flipping channels as her shirt slid over her head, and his sudden fascination with the food channel and a heavy set middle aged woman who was very adamant about the use of real lemons in her prized lemon cake recipe.

Once Maka knew she had cracked him, she knew she could break him too. Even though she missed the hint of pink playing on his cheeks, lost in the semi darkness of the room, she reveled in his slip up. She then simply left the room, wearing not only Soul's old shirt, but his grin and with a slight mingling taste of revenge on her tongue, surprisingly sour, but just as satisfying and addicting as the sweet.

 **Thanks for reading!** **J**


	3. An Unintended Victory

An Unintended Victory

"Win a no win situation by rewriting the rules."

\- Harvey Specter

The only thing sweeter than revenge is winning and her words tasted a whole lot like victory, or was it just the half priced Valentine's Day candy she was eating by the handful? Whichever it was, it made her feel so upbeat that the months of suppressed irritation and anger seemed like a distant memory.

Soul was up to his usual antics, going to and fro in the bare minimum, today in plaid blue boxer shorts, but he uncharacteristically kept to his own room for the latter part of the day, later changing into clothes before going to play basketball with Blackstar. Knowing that he would be gone for most of the day, Maka decided to take advantage of a free TV and couch, which was always occupied by a grumbling Soul whenever she decided to watch her cheesy soap operas she so guiltily loved. As much as he would lament about their stupidity, she would always find Soul sitting on the couch every Monday at 7 when the next episode aired, convincing her that they both shared a secret obsession. It was also the only time he would actually pull over a blanket, so not to give Maka a reason to leave, earning him another episode judgment free, more or less.

Alone without much to do, Maka laid herself across the sagging cushions, feet propped up on the arm of worn leather, and a pile of pillows under her neck. Her hair was still wet from the shower she just took and free from the pigtails it was usually wrestled into, smelling sweet from her new strawberry scented shampoo.

Knowing Soul wouldn't be back for hours, she let herself get comfortable with a box of cheap drugstore chocolates which rested on her chest and let herself wear only underwear and a extra large tee, with remote in hand and her favorite celebrity special blaring, this was heaven. Her well needed reprieve from life and into the high drama celebrity one was going well until she bit into a coconut chocolate, a tragedy in itself, as the front door suddenly flew open to reveal Soul's angry footfalls making their way too quickly for her to align herself.

"I can't believe the asshole! To think he would call me out on a foul even when I saved his sorry ass from losing, and to think why Kid agreed with the idiot is beyond me! And he made the goddamn penalty from in front of the line! Can you believe that Maka?" Soul stopped his heated rage as he glimpsed Maka lying on the couch, her shirt riding up to her stomach and with her underwear showing; not at all the polka dotted patterned ones he got the occasional glimpse of. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as she quickly regained her composure, righting herself, but stopped before pulling her shirt down farther as an idea sprang up. She looked him straight in the eyes, hoping a creeping blush would not give her away.

"Oh hey Soul, I didn't know you'd be back so soon." She answered, "So, Blackstar cheated again, did he?" A cold smile came across her face as she watched him survey her with so little on, as he had never seen her in. There was an uncharacteristically long pause that she ate up, her confidence growing as he put his hand in his hair, a nervous mannerism signaling his discomfort. She almost laughed out loud at his response and darting eyes, glad that she could make him as uncomfortable as he had these last few months. Making sure not to pull down her shirt, so her undergarments were in full view, she stood up waiting for an answer, and happily realizing her shirt bunched up enough to reveal just a bit of the red fabric, not looked over by Soul.

"Uh, yeah he did. He got a pant-penalty" he quickly caught himself on the word, with a brush of pink making itself visible on the apples of his cheeks, "that he really shouldn't have and Kid and I were just fed up so we left early." He finished lamely, waiting for her to say something as he scratched his ear.

"Oh, okay, I'll pretend to know what a pen-alty is," she answered, obviously knowing, but accentuating the _pen_ to let him know she caught the Freudian slip.

She almost couldn't believe that Mr. I'm-So-Cool was embarrassed to see her in just a long shirt, and his discomfort was gratifying.

"It's complicated," he lied as he inched out of the room, "Oh, and I'm staying at Kid's tonight, so don't worry about making dinner." He added before hurrying out of the room, a blush clearly visible on his face.

Maka cleaned up slowly, hoping if she stalled enough he might leave while she was still on the room to get one last glimpse of her, but after a few minutes of pointless cushion fluffing and frame straightening, she realized he wouldn't leave until she did. And as she closed her bedroom door, she heard the click of his opening and scuttling footsteps out the front door and she couldn't help but to smile at the music of his speedy footfalls.

 **So a bit shorter than normal, so I promise another sooner! I hoped you're all liking the story, I know I'm having a great time writing it!**


	4. When Tables Turn so Does Heat

Ch 4 When Tables Turn, so Does Heat

With her most recent victory still ringing in her ears, Maka's confidence went through the leaky roof. Listening to the little red figure on her shoulder, she went out of her way to make Soul as uncomfortable as possible, while making sure to remain classy. Though she might poke holes in her boat, she refused to sink down to his level, which was in her not-so-objective opinion somewhere along the abyssal plains.

It was so gratifying to see him turning away from a room with her in it, pretending to be searching for something before making his way back into his own room, face nearly rivaling the color of his eyes.

But while their little game somewhat equaled out, she didn't solely dominate it. So not to be accused of hypocrisy, she did make herself decent when sitting at the table, something Soul was not civilized enough to follow suit in. So he milked every moment to stretch and look her in the eyes with sly stupid grins plastered on his face, willing her to blush or look away.

And sometimes she did, but with less frequency than before. It wasn't as though she lost interest or was bored of him, she merely got used to it. It was just like dipping a hand in the cookie box, you feel guilty the first few times, but after awhile you can eat an entire sleeve without regret, until the next day of course when the self disgust settles in. And in a sense Soul was like her personal sleeve of cookies, delicious the first few times, but a bit dry despite being just as good. But Soul wasn't accustomed to her sporadic displays, and she used this knowledge against him, always with a suppressed grin hidden behind a mask of content.

This was where they differed in reactions; Maka's blatant embarrassment was expected, but Soul's sudden leaves and jumpiness made her wonder if he was secretly frigid and was an amazing actor. But that idea was tossed out as absurd, he was known to go out of his way to make embarrassing remarks about women on the street, comparing them to herself, who would pale in comparison time and time again, a cruel joke that Maka refused to give the slightest acknowledgement to. But she was sure frigidness wasn't the sole reason behind his wholesome self-consciousness, but not curious enough to inquire, she set it aside lightly and went happily on in ignorance playing their little game, too stubborn to lose despite its recent banality.

But her answer came in an unexpected way, in which she could say she never had the slightest clue, until afterword when it became blatantly clear.

After a particularly draining practice, they both dragged themselves back to the apartment, sweaty and exhausted. Soul managed to commandeer the shower, much to her irritation, taking longer in spite of her relentless door banging and cursing. Finally when the water shut off and he came out, clothed for once, probably too tired to care, she pushed past him in annoyance and was met with an eye role that may be rolling to this day.

Finally in the shower, the hot water melted the day's frustrations and sent them swirling down the drain alongside pieces of her thin hair. Once she washed off the day's dirt and grime she stepped out onto the cold linoleum floor in a towel, a habit of hers and Soul's after an embarrassing instance in which the lock didn't stick like it should, followed by many weeks of staring up at ceilings when in the same room. To her dismay, she realized she had forgotten a change of clothes. Sighing in annoyance she decided against pulling on the dirty heap of training clothes, cringing at the idea.

Listening for any indication to where S oul might be and finding none, she decided a quick get away to her room in the towel might work. Odds were Soul was passed out in his room or raiding the fridge, so their paths wouldn't cross, but there was still the mingling apprehension of what if he was just turning into the hall. Then it dawned on her it wouldn't be tragedy of any sorts, he indecently went around in a towel all the time, why the double standard?

Frowning slightly at her sudden realization of her loss in morals, which Blair surely would be proud of, she quickly pulled the handle and stepped out into the colder air, but that was as far as she managed.

A move forward too suddenly, coupled with the wetness of the floor and her haste to get into her room unhampered, she fell down neither too gracefully nor quietly onto the hardwood. It was called hardwood for a reason, she realized as her knees hit the floor painfully with a dull thump.

"Fucking fantastic," she mumbled under her breath as she held her head in one hand and massaged her shoulder with the other. And if that wasn't bad enough she spied Soul's head peering around the corner from the kitchen, so she had been right after all, and she cursed her unnecessary haste. But instead of outright laughing as was characteristic of him, he looked genuinely concerned.

"Hey, Maka, are you alright?" He stayed at his end, but she saw he was itching to make his way over but something was stopping him. Still a bit dazed, she tried sitting up slowly and decided she was fine since the room wasn't spinning or foggy, but now she had a clear view of Soul's worried, bright pink, face.

Her heart suddenly sunk into her stomach as she felt a lack of fabric above her midriff. You've got to be kidding me, she cursed and she hastily took up the towel in both hands to cover her exposed chest. But humiliation wasn't enough to steady her bruised legs, because as she speedily tried to get up to make a run for her room, again she slipped, though on the pivot this time which Soul saw from a mile way, allowing him to quickly catch her awkwardly by the shoulder and away from himself, before she went down again.

"So, you're not alright I'm guessing?" He asked, as he held her in stiff arms refusing to look down. The embarrassment consumed her, and she hoped he didn't think her slips were intentional.

She yanked away from him, the blue towel a knotted mess over her chest now,

"No," she mumbled, "let me go, I'll be fine." She pulled away from his stiff arms, face burning and wishing this memory to oblivion.

"I didn't think you'd go that far. Me, maybe," he said jokingly with a half grin that seemed out of place with alongside his blush. This was their first mention of their little game, which startled her so much she stopped, mouth agape,

"I wasn't try-, what are talk-, I can't believe you would think," but she couldn't finish a sentence, too irritated to even begin to yell.

"Don't act like you don't know what's going on," he then said offhandedly in a sort of jaded way causing her to squint back at him in annoyance and blush the more, this time in defense. She didn't like him thinking of her like this. It was one thing for the pot to call the kettle black, but another for it to do the same to the white sugar bowl, even if it was painted black on the inside.

"How about we just stop, I'm getting tired of it," he responded to her silence, a look of such pity crossed his face that she almost wanted to punch him, but remembered the toweled mess she was holding up wouldn't allow for it.

"Don't act like you don't enjoy embarrassing me, with your strutting about in nothing for months, I was just getting back," She had to re position the towel as she talked, causing her to lose her train of thought. Soul looked confused for just a second, but then smiled maniacally which made her uneasy.

"You really don't get it," he asked in bewilderment to Maka who really didn't know what to make of the comment, "why did you think I was-why I was trying to make you jealous for so long, always trying to get your attention. I just thought you were playing dumb, didn't know you're this hard headed" A strange expression crossed his face as if he was internally weighing out some option and then deciding for it.

"What in the world are you going on about, you know what, I don't care, I'm going to change and then we can talk. I can't take you seriously like-" But before she could turn into her room, she was pushed up against the faded wallpaper, with hands over her head held loosely by him at the wrists, his other keeping the towel in place as he kissed her. Whether it lasted for either an eternity or a few seconds, she wasn't entirely sure.

 **… Stay tuned for more. I'm not sure how quickly I can have the next one up, but I'll try my best :) As always, thanks for reading!**


	5. In Reality

"Love is a difficult realization that something other than oneself is real" -Iris Murdock

The mind is a funny thing, especially in regards to its imagination. When Maka imagined her first kiss, she guiltily played it out in her head like a movie: herself in a long flowing dress silhouetted against a warm setting sun, with hidden angels lightly playing golden harps while a nameless figure held her gently by the waist. In her little fictional reality, the breeze blew the airy light scent of thousands of wildflowers from the meadow they were in, shifting her hair a bit into the faceless figure's, his cue to swoop her up in his strong arms while bending her at the waist with a hand on the small of her back, like in every romance. They would both be giggling softly as white doves cooed from above, and the steadily darkening sky shimmered with millions emerging stars, a perfect Van Gogh sky their backdrop.

To give reality some credit, it was pretty dark in the hallway, there probably were some pigeons on the window ledge in the kitchen, and if she focused hard enough, she could smell the air freshener hanging in the closet, which wasn't too bad, even though it was New Car smell.

Surprised as she was, she was nearly positive Soul was even more caught off guard by his sudden action. Leaning against the wall with him holding up the toweled mess for her, her own hands awkwardly placed above her head held by his, not in any way the seductive manner characteristic of that position, she could do little else but wait, what for, she wasn't entirely sure, but it could take all the time it needed.

The gentle, unsure pressure on her lips was sweeter than she expected it to be, but was hardly the sole cause of her creeping blush. Frozen in mortification from the onset, her eyes were open and at the mercy of his, betraying the calm front she was trying to imitate. The worst part was, not that there were too many as she would later reflect, him searching for something in her face, some morsel of relief or enjoyment or something she wasn't sure what, but knew enough to know he couldn't find it.

In all honestly, she didn't know how long they stayed like that in the musty hall, his lips on her reluctant ones. All she knew for sure, because her mind was half blank from shock, was that if he didn't pull away soon to let her breath she might faint. And what a story that would be.

Despite not being exactly what she expected and her nameless figure not at all the knight in shining armor she imagined, more like a court jester in tin foil, she couldn't say it was necessarily the worst experience in her life. Court jester or king, he could kiss.

After the initial shock melted away, the gentle warmth that spread throughout her from where they touched was surprisingly calming, even if it somehow managed to raise her pulse with each passing second, or minute, or hour. That was the great conundrum of it all, how something so straightforward could be so paradoxical at the same time. It far outweighed the any description she ever read from Blair's novels under the cover of her bed covers.

Above all, the total absence of repulsion she waited for agitated her. Not the least bit disgusted, she found to enjoy the spreading warmth and fuzzy feeling building up in the pit of her stomach, she could almost say she enjoyed it. Encouraged by her lack of resistance, he leaned in closer and pressed her harder against cheap wallpaper. Then, impulsively, she closed her eyes and kissed him back for just a second, but was sure he felt it before the doorbell rang, causing him to jump away and her to quickly secure the fabric around herself.

Suddenly broken from an embarrassing spell, and sent barreling back to a tepid reality, they meet each other's eyes for scarcely a millisecond and went their separate ways quickly, Maka rushing to her room and Soul to the door in some understood silence.

Finally to safety, Maka shut the door and fell against it, listening to the persistent ringing and banging which she knew was characteristic of BlackStar's coming. And with a swish of the door signaled by change in air pressure moving her door and a booming voice reverberating off the walls, Maka's guess was verified.

As she half listened to their chatter about something, she couldn't quite recall what because of the blood pounding in her ears, she noticed only uncharacteristically trite and hollowed responses from Soul, and knowing what their lack-luster was attributed to it triggered another creeping blush.

For someone as intelligent as herself, she was quite an idiot. Though the interruption should have been a godsend, she couldn't suppress a rising sense of disappointment that she couldn't quite place. And that worried her, to the point where she stared blankly at the wall in attempt to make heads and tails of it all.

A warm shower is what she needed, wait no she just got out of the shower, she needed clothes, that's what, Maka thought, her mind still running circles. After trying to pull up her pant sleeve on her arm, Maka decided to sit down and calm herself before taking on the grand task of dressing herself.

After her heart stopped thudding to the beat of Staying Alive, which took much longer and far too much pacing than she would admit, she forced herself to lie in bed and think the situation through the only way she knew how, logically.

Though still confused with her own impulsive action in kissing him back, which she prayed went unnoticed, but knew in her heart of hearts it wasn't, the kiss itself didn't surprise her as much now that she was away from him. Finally, the months, maybe even years, of sly remarks she thought were ways to embarrass her, became apparent, nearly causing her to smack herself for her own stupidity. Maybe Soul was right, maybe she was hardheaded, but if she was then he was an idiot by default. And maybe she just needed a good, hard, Maka chop to set things straight.

She listened to the boys' intermittent yells and jeers as they were either watching a game or playing one, she couldn't really tell, but nothing in the world could get her to leave. And so she waited, for what exactly, she wasn't positive, but soon she heard a change in tone to lower, more deliberative talking, and wished she could hear exactly what they were saying, paranoid they were discussing her. She was almost tempted to chug the glass of water on her nightstand and place it against the door to listen through as done in the movies, but deliberated for too long, and they went back to their customary loudness.

"Yeah, I'll tell everyone, this will be the shit I'm telling ya," BlackStar bellowed as if her neighbors weren't sleeping as most people did at 1 o'clock in the morning.

"I don't know if it's a good idea, I don't think Maka will appreciate a party, not after what happened last time." Blackstar quieted for a moment, weighing his options.

"Oh, but who cares what that nag thinks, it's your party not hers, oh and anyway," his voice went down an octave, but didn't lower much in volume, "did you finally- damn it Soul I'll fucking kill you." Maka heard a hard thump followed by some tousling and some things falling to the floor with dull thumps, rolling away with a sound a whole lot like what she expected the bowl of lemons on the kitchen table to sound on the kitchen floor.

"Whatever I'm leaving, but don't worry 'bout anything, Tsubaki and I will figure it all out." He said the last half from outside the doorway, Maka could tell by the way his voice carried, and then heard the shut and the lock click as Soul did the nightly rounds of shutting off lights and straightening up, normally her job.

Not entirely sure of the meaning of their conversation, she surmised that they were probably having some sort of party, and then suddenly realized tomorrow was Soul's birthday.

They normally didn't have parties or celebrations, maybe a cake or a prank gift, but BlackStar seemed pretty excited, leading her to think it might happen after all. And in a way that was a good thing, she now didn't have to decide whether or not to be alone with him, but she couldn't help to feel a small ache of disappointment gnawing on her heartstrings. What was wrong with her? She knew what Blair would say, but this couldn't be love. Love was supposed to be light and sweet, not painful and confusing. And maybe she had been overestimating her intelligence, because boy, did she have a lot to learn.

 **Thanks! More coming- uh- soon...**


	6. Remember?

Maka became certain of two things as she slowly got up from the floor of the bathroom: that cold tiles must feel like heaven when on the verge of passing out in alcohol induced exhaustion, and that she would never, ever put a red plastic cup to her lips again. Rubbing out a knot in her neck, she finally managed to stand up on shaky legs with a helping hand from the bathroom sink. She screwed her face up in a squint to block the streaks of morning light shining in through the blinds. Who knew light could be so painful? The interminable pounding in her head made it difficult to focus on anything, adding to her amounting misery.

She glanced into the worn mirror above the sink and recoiled at her worn image in disbelief and self-pity. Only one pigtail survived the night, with strands of hair lying in tendrils around her, strays plastered to her neck. There were bags under her eyes from smudged mascara, confusing her since she didn't even own a tube of it. She tore her eyes away from herself quickly and ran cold water, splashing some on her face before angling her lips under the stream and taking a few much needed swallows to sooth her sore parched throat. While still avoiding any reflective surface, she brushed her teeth quickly, glad to get the stale taste out of her mouth, turning on the shower simultaneously.

It amazed her that even after a long hot shower the grogginess and her persistent headache refused to fade. Changing back into last night's clothes, which were in a better state than her, she opened the bathroom door and walked out into the drier air of the hall and made a beeline for her room. Once there, she half-sat half-fell onto the mattress and rolled over face first into a pillow, hands over her aching head. Despite feeling exhausted she knew there was no way she could fall asleep, even if the pounding stopped. The silence of her bedroom helped a little, and soon it subsided enough for her to sit up, knees to her chest with her head resting on them.

Screwing her face up in thought and a discomfort she couldn't quite place, she tried to remember the specifics of what had happened, but last night seemed like one large amorphous jumble of rope she had to untangle. She remembered her stay in the bathroom just fine, losing count of the times she threw up at around five making her mingling hangover feel not so bad in comparison.

And yet something scratched at the back of her mind, some memory that felt important, though just out of reach as words could be on a tongue. Whatever it was, it felt important enough for her to attempt to piece together so she tried remembering, not knowing that forgetting would be all she wanted after.

She wasn't at all excited to have so many people over in their tiny apartment, especially before she and Soul had a chance to figure out exactly what happened in the hall the night before, and if it would be impractical to hope they could go on as before, which she highly doubted. But the party would go on, as according to BlackStar's unannounced arrival.

She could almost hear the breaking of picture frames and the outbreak of some ego-induced brawl that BlackStar was bound to get in, making the only thing worse than her current situation to be a surprise visit from her father, a thought at which she literally knocked on wood despite not being superstitious; that was something she could never afford to risk.

By some godsend, the party committee onto which Maka was forced despite her futile attempts to get out of, managed to usher a half-asleep Soul out the front door before a word could be said, or look passed between them to Maka's pleasure. Why deal with her problems now if they'd just be there tomorrow?

And so Patty, self proclaimed leader of the committee and creator of the party committee plan, or PCP as she called it until Maka decided to enlighten her about her choice of acronym, devoted herself to helping, though in reality hampering, the effort. The next few hours consisted of ordering food, half hearted decorating with cheap streamers and balloons, and inviting guests, none of which BlackStar thought important enough to do prior to the date, becoming the main force behind why it all turned out so crappy.

Eventually, after many stupidity begotten Maka-chops on BlackStar, they somehow managed to make the shabby apartment look worse. And then Kidd came in to help, 3 hours late because of crisis in which the black bedspread he bought didn't exactly match the shade of black of the mugs on each nightstand. He nearly died upon seeing their attempts to decorate, and volunteered to fix up the, "hellish mess belonging to Satan himself" they created. So he was made official decoration fixer, which did really help the overall aesthetic of the place, and his help was worth it even if they were forced to listen to the occasional sob and mutter of their ineptitude as he straightened streamers and arranged everything from fruit bowls in the kitchen to their medicine cabinet in the bathroom.

Once a majority of the food had been set, decorations fixed, and cake placed on the table, Liz was sent out to find Soul and bring him back which took far longer than expected since no one exactly knew where he was. They all stood around the kitchen table and yelled "Happy Birthday" as the door opened, all except Patty who screamed "surprise" even though she was the one who called Soul just about an hour before to get his cake flavor preference. Maka fell back as they sung a round of Happy Birthday and he shifted his weight from foot to foot in discomfort.

For the most part, the party was pretty uneventful until the last few hours in her recollection. Other than forgetting to buy candles for the cake in their mad dash to prepare everything, in which BlackStar improvised by sticking in two large thin decorative candles from the living room and placing matches haphazardly for the remaining years, little happened otherwise.

Soul avoided her, and she him, so it always worked out in a way so that neither had to initiate the conversation they were bound to have eventually. So she spent most of the night eating the surprisingly good strawberry cake and talking to Tsubaki over the coffee table.

Just when the celebrations began to die down after an unannounced leave by BlackStar, the door swung open revealing him, Blair, and three large paper bags Maka instantly disapproved of even though ignorant of their contents. But she uncharacteristically kept her mouth shut as the bottles were placed on the tables with clinks, earning a strange look from BlackStar when her normal chastise for pushing her limits this didn't come along.

In all honestly, she just didn't want to make a scene that could potentially get Soul involved, especially in front of all their friends. So she took a step back from her normal parental position and let the boys drink all they want, her and Tsubaki only taking sips of whatever was passed to them in the red solo cups. At least their stupidity was amusing to them, as they got increasingly drunker and clumsier, tripping over one another as they made fools of themselves. At one point, a tipsy Blair decided to give Soul a present, which was, to no one's surprise, her in 'clothes' that looked more like fabric attached to string, making Soul pass out and her to be dragged away whining and pouting by an annoyed Kidd for causing Soul to knock over a strategically aligned bowl of fake fruit.

Watching them all was almost like a bad sitcom, and she was so immersed in their idiocy that when she placed to the cup to her lips for another small sip, she realized she must have drank it all without noticing. Feeling fine and thinking nothing of it she took up another cup, this one she nearly choked over as it burned down her throat, causing her to sputter and cough and making BlackStar look over tp her sitting alone on the couch.

"Who knew you'd go for something stronger!" BlackStar said as he sat roughly down next to her, earning him a look of displeasure. Unlike the others, no matter how much he drank, he never seemed the least bit impaired, just his idiotic self like always. She supposed since he was so drunk on life all the time, actual drinking had no effect on him. Maka rolled her eyes at him and set down the cup, which earned her an exaggerated pout, "Oh come on, you're gonna let me stop you! I thought you had more in you. Guess I was wrong." In annoyance, Maka tapped her fingers rhythmically on the table as he lifted his eye brows and took a large swing from his own cup. She took up her own and impulsively chugged it, trying her hardest not to sputter at the burning liquid, and remembered thinking who the hell actually liked this stuff. BlackStar's face shifted to that of surprise and he gave a small laugh,

"I'm impressed. How about we play a little game?" Maka's eyes narrowed in suspicion, she had inkling of what he was going to say, and not as all excited for it.

"What?" she said tritely, as he poured some more of something into her cup.

"I bet you can't keep up with me." He responded in such a condescending and prideful way that she itched to punch him, so as he put his own cup to his lips and took a sip she mimicked him wordlessly and he smiled as he walked away.

And the rest of the night went in that way, whenever he drank, she drank, until her head felt lighter and her movements more sluggish. Once she lost count, she noticed he wasn't taking the voracious gulps as before, slowing down considerably. The rest of the party went on in ignorance of their little bet, until the neighbors above them knocked and yelled to get out or go to sleep, threatening them with much explicit language. So they collectively decided to disband, BlackStar sitting down next to Maka before going, where he ruffled her hair affectionately, which her waterlogged mind allowed, or didn't completely register.

"Guess you win," he said with less animation than before, but in a sort of prideful way.

"I don't think either of us does," she answered as she tried to keep the room from spinning.

"I think you're right," he responded with a sigh, "how are you still awake, you're so tiny I thought you'd've passed out after the first, haha. You can really hold your liquor for sure!" he patted her on the back a little too hard and she cringed at the compliment if she could call it that. And after that he left along with the rest of the partygoers, the apartment reverted back to its usual semi-peacefulness, even though it swayed just a little more than usual.

Maka, tipsy and heavy-limbed, rested on the couch for a few more minutes, her problems with Soul completely leaving her mind until he walked in with a black trash bag throwing in empty cans and cups in some attempt to clean up a bit. Maka watched him move around half-avoiding her.

"What, you're not even going to talk to me?" she asked him without much thought, it was amazing how much alcohol can rob you of sense. He stopped what he was doing and looked over to her, hands resting on her head and the cushion holding her up, she must have looked like a mess.

"Didn't know you wanted to," he answered offhandedly, "So what then? You have anything to say?" She just shrugged in response, unsure of how to go from there, so she stood up a little shakily in front of him, meeting his eyes for the first time since last night. Another thing that alcohol can do, she realized, is give you courage, though at the expense of sense.

"Why did you kiss me?" She put it so bluntly and forcefully that even her drunken mind cringed a little at the awkward air it created. Soul let out a breath and put a hand to his hair in his normal nervous mannerism a creep of blush running across his face.

"I think you know, so stop this," he mumbled and looked away, unwilling to go on while she watched him so intently.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she answered, on the brink of annoyance. He contemplated his answer for a second, took a breath and almost angrily responded,

"What? Was I supposed to just out of the blue say, 'hey Maka, I've always had this weird crush on you but could never say anything because I thought you were too good for me and didn't want to weird you out so I digressed to doing things to make you notice me instead of saying that I loved you-" He stopped suddenly, a deep blush creeping across his face over what he let slip of his tongue. Flushed from drink or mingled embarrassment, Maka wasn't sure what to make out of it, but her mind wasn't thinking as quickly as she was used to so she decided to bypass her normal thinking process and do what she felt to be right at the time. The last thing about alcohol she learned that night was that it made you painfully honest, making you do things you only wished you could, maybe even those things you didn't dare wish for.

And before he was able to turn away, she suddenly took up his face into hers, looked him hard in the eyes and kissed him, sloppily but deeply. She couldn't distinguish whether her dizziness was attributed to her drunken state or the kiss, but the spinning in her head gave her a strange feeling as he steadied her by wrapping arms around her waist and kissing her back hungrily, amidst fields of cans and cheap plastic plates, but she had too much on her mind to care at the moment.

This time there was no spreading warmth or butterflies, just a sensation of her doing she was meant to be, or at least what she thought she meant to be, and sort of strange happiness she never felt before warmed her. And as much as she felt she was doing something right and never wanted to stop, she pulled away to take a breath knowing she was seconds from passing out,

"Exactly how drunk are you?" he asked her as she looked away, with a tinge of sadness her mind couldn't quite place. She pulled away from his slightly, holding her head with one hand and steadying herself against his shoulder with the other.

"You have no idea," she managed weakly, "I'm not feeling so well actually." He walked her over to her own room and made her sit down before leaving, giving her a long look and a shake of his head before going,

"I should get you drunk more often if it's the only way you'll kiss me back," he said so quietly she almost didn't hear. Sluggish and nauseous, she sat on her bed for some time, mind completely non comprehending of what he said or anything from that night.

Soon she couldn't take it anymore and walked to the bathroom as quickly as possible, beginning her long night on the cold tiled floor.

As the memory of the night before came rolling back in increments, Maka slowly sat up on her bed, head in hands, completely mortified. Something changed that night, whether it was with herself or with something between them, she wasn't quite sure; all she knew was things would be different, and maybe not for the better, wondering why she couldn't have just forgotten it. At least her drunk self had the guts to do something, she thought as she contemplated making her way into the kitchen, weighing whether or not meeting Soul would be worth it. But before she could decide she saw a figure appear in her bedroom doorway wearing a mask of indifference as he surveyed her hangover self on her bed. As if nothing had happened he asked,

"I'll be damned if you remember anything from last night, you look awful." In his words she saw her chance and took it,

"Yeah, I can't remember anything, is that normal?" she prayed her voice wouldn't give her away; she could nearly taste the lie on her tongue. He paused for second too long, which she pretended not to notice,

"You remember nothing?" He asked in cool apathy, making the hairs on her airs stand at his lack of emotion she couldn't quite place.

"After Kidd started crying about the balloons, everything gets fuzzy and just black," Soul didn't look completely convinced, or maybe it was just her guilty imagination that made it seem so, but just to be safe she added with a forced smile, "what did I do something embarrassing?" She searched his face for some sort of response, but it remained as placid as ever, damn him and his attitude; it was trying to yellow ink on yellow paper, everything sort of mixes together and you eventually decide just to give it up.

"No, not at all," there was new edge to his voice that unsettled her," Actually, it's a shame you don't remember, you really loosen up, it's like you're a completely different person." Maka grimaced inwardly, already regretting the way this was going.

"Soul wait," she managed before he went out, not wanting to leave their conversation at such an ambiguous place, "about the other day, about what happened-"

He turned away from her before cutting her off curtly,

"Don't worry about it, maybe it's better if you forget about that too." Of all the wrong ways she imagined this conversation to go, this was a million times worse than any scenario. She stared at his receding figure and jumped at the sharp sound of the front door closing leaving her to contemplate his words. He couldn't possible know, could he?

Maka sighed at the realization that in her sober state she had created a far greater mess, why couldn't she just have been honest? But in her heart she knew that if she had another chance, she wouldn't be able to change a thing. It terrified her, this strange feeling she had towards him, so she refused to admit to herself what it really was and it tore her apart.

They say love makes you do and say some stupid things; if that was true Maka was the biggest idiot in the entire world.

 **How other writers can dish out a chapter a day is beyond me! More coming in the (near?) future. Thanks for reading and sticking with these sporadic updates!**


	7. happiness

"Life is short, break the rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably and never regret anything that makes you smile."

-Mark Twain

No one mentioned it could be this difficult. To act as if nothing had happened and trudge on with such a heavy heart fettered to her ankles, but what else was there to do? She wasn't exactly living a tragedy here and self pity was ridiculous. There were a million other things she could be worrying about, but all seemed to pale in comparison to Soul's abrupt exit and fleeting words. For all she knew there could have been be no meaning behind them, but then again these last few days made her question exactly how much she did know, which didn't appear to be much according to her recollections. But musing over these things was leading nowhere as she grew more irritated by the minute, at one point setting her on the brink of sending an innocent smiley-faced mug on her living room table sailing through the second story window.

So Maka did as any self respecting person is taught to do when facing a problem: push it as far back as possible and run away as if nothing had happened. It might not be the most venerable method on dealing with her issues, but it kept her from acting on her violent tendencies and saved a particularly cheerful framed photo from an 'accidental' fall. And so for a good part of the morning Maka acted like a good adult, suppressing anger and distracting herself as she waited for well- she wasn't quite sure. Soul's sudden leave left her confused and a bit dazed, leaving her to wonder if the morning was just some hangover-induced hallucination, which would make sense considering how the rest of the day was so godamn normal.

The rest of the day followed suit in this painfully slow manner as she pushed back every thought about him that arose, which happened quite often. And finally the banality of the day caught up with her the way any long day might, leaving her inexplicably tired and lethargic. At least her hangover finally faded she thought bitterly and she laid herself down on the couch. She followed the setting sun from the living room window, watching as its eyes steadily drooped and intermittently closed only to shoot open for a second and again droop as it nodded off into the horizon.

And soon Maka imitated its pre-sleep routine and finally succumbed to her heavy eyelids and into a much needed rest. It was a dreamless sleep; one of those light rests that come unexpectedly but when needed most.

Her next conscious moment came not long after she drifted off. A warm sensation enveloped her, leaving her on the line between wakefulness and deep sleep but for whatever reason instead of falling victim to the warmth she opened her eyes to find a blanket being placed over her in the semidarkness by figure that froze upon seeing her stir.

Dazed and in a state of mental grogginess that impeded her from grasping what was happening, Maka reached over and pulled the cool lamp chain as she felt the blanket drop onto her bare legs. Squinting her eyes from the sudden blinding light, she looked over to see a blurry placid face looking down at her.

"Soul?" She put out seconds before it all came rushing back and she realized what was happening. She propped her heavy self up on an elbow and shielded her eyes as she looked at him, as one might do at the sun.

He made some affirmative though curt sound in the back of his throat as he begun to turn away, but before he could Maka impulsively grabbed his sleeve before he turn away completely. He stopped and angled his head slightly, waiting for her to say something but her waterlogged brain was having trouble forming an explanation, and all she could master in subduing embarrassment was a mumbled "Umm" as she quickly released his sleeve and sat up, hoping he would just leave her miserable self alone to melt in self embarrassment. Why did she do these sorts of things?

But Soul waited, far longer then he should have and she would have, until the silence was so unbearable and the tension so thick she knew he wouldn't leave until she said something. Wringing her slightly shaking hands in discomfort, she quietly managed to say,

"I remember what happened," She paused for a second as he rubbed his neck with this hand, back still facing her, "sorry for lying." She lamely ended and more than half expected him to just walk out at that, but surprising them both to an extent he turned around and looked at her so fiercely that she couldn't help but to shrink away as his eyes searched her face.

"Why?" He asked her in such an apathetic way that any words she had hitched in her throat as her mind spun around searching for an answer. In all honestly, she knew what it was, but there was no way she could say it right now, not as his hard eyes bore into hers, not when she was so afraid to even admit it to herself. But he was waiting expectantly for an answer that she herself could not register.

"Are you really going to make me spell it out for you?" she answered almost angrily as his surveyed her. She wasn't sure he completely understood what she meant as he suddenly turned to leave. For half a second she was positive she would let him go, but in her lit a spark of rage and she half jumped up, grabbing his wrist and made him turn to face her.

Her breathing became slightly jagged as it did when she became annoyed at something. She set her teeth and searched his face, and was surprised to find mingled hurt and annoyance that matched her own.

They were both such idiots, she decided as she yanked down his arm to bring his startled face to hers and kiss him. It was quick. Far too quick. But at the same time far too long once she realized he wasn't kissing her back. She pulled away abruptly.

"Soul," she managed with an unsteady voice, attempting to shroud her uncertainly, "look, I just want to say I remember what happened and I regret lying about it and only did because I was afraid of things changing between us and I really didn't want them to because I really like you and just don't know how to show it and I'm scared of that and that you won't feel the same and oh why won't you just cut me off and say something, anyth-" And he did.

He grabbed her around the waist so suddenly that they lost their balance and fell onto the coach a little ungracefully as he pushed his lips into hers. This was so different from the other times she realized. It was rougher, more intense and his time neither held back in fear of rejection. She found herself needing air but was just as unwilling as he was to part. A subtle feeling of warmth spread from her stomach and made it up to her cheeks as they embraced, his hands sliding up and down her back and her own finding their way into his hair.

She couldn't say how long for they went on like this, but neither was concerned with counting. After a good long time, she unwrapped her legs from around his waist and he slowly took his hands out from under her shirt almost sheepishly, and she found herself right side up and half in his lap straddling a leg and facing the empty T.V screen. His arms were still around her, pulling her into him, and neither said anything for the longest time. He let out a long sigh as he pulled her into him tighter.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to do that," He whispered. She turned around at his words and looked at his face and grinned.

"You're blushing!" she accused rather mockingly, glad to be able to joke so freely with him again. Her comment only deepened the pinkish hue, much to her giddy enjoyment, and as she light heartedly laughed he took hold of her wrists, pinned her down roughly against the cushions, and trailed his lips down her neck, making her breaths come out in short sputters. All she could think about was how different it was from the day in the hall to have him kiss her like this. He lifted his eyes to hers and gave her his signature lopsided grin.

"Now you're blushing," he taunted as she half pouted and rolled her eyes. He let go of her wrists but refused to budge, which she didn't much mind.

"So, are we just going to forget about this and go on like nothing happened, or is this something I can remember without regrets?" she asked him almost jokingly, but seriously at heart. She was tired of the pointless bickering and cold shoulders, this was so much better and she was afraid of losing it.

"I think we've wasted enough time already," He answered and then with mock seriousness added, "But on second thought, I don't think this could work actually." And he dramatically pretended to get up and leave, laughing as Maka pulled him back sternly.

"Just shut up and kiss me you idiot," she huffed as he leaned in and put his forehead up to hers.

"It would be my pleasure, but I'll be doing more than that," he added with a wink that her turn precisely the shade of his eyes.

They slept more peacefully that night in each other's arms than they had for months. And the morning breeze coming in through the open window was like a sigh singling a return to peace, more or less, thought Maka as Soul yanked the blanket off of her and wouldn't let go no matter how much she yanked it back. She let out an exasperated sigh but smiled at his sleeping figure, the way his eyes drooped, how silly he looked with his mouth open, and how his hair stood up on end all gave her a strangely happy feeling knowing that it was all hers and hers alone to look at in this morning light.

And in the end they were just two idiots sipping coffee in their underwear like such a thing was completely ordinary, laughing at some dumb joke until their sides hurt and so ridiculously happy that they forgot that it might seem strange to someone looking in to see them; it's a shame they didn't know sooner how much happier they could be with their masks taken off, and it is an even bigger shame that so many others didn't know how great a feeling it is to be able to laugh so absurdly at the ridiculous without holding back, and how much unspoken love there could be in such a simple thing.

 **Well, there it is! Another story done and another hiatus to take up! I'll be back to writing sooner than usual though, it seems like I have too many ideas and not enough time, but I'll be back. Much thanks to those who have stuck with me from the start, words can't describe how much I value you! And thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read my work! So, until next time!**


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